A Girl Can Dream
by meekshallinherit
Summary: Audrey's musings on fairytales.


_Audrey's musings on fairytales. Rated T because I'm new at posting things and very paranoid._

_I do not own Little Shop of Horrors._

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When I was still young, back before I became fascinated with _Better Homes and Gardens_, I remember having a picture book of fairytales instead. I read through it so many times the book was practically falling apart. I loved all of the stories, but Cinderella was always my favorite. I loved to pore over the pictures of the beautiful gown, and the grand ballroom, and the romantic waltz with the prince. But even more than that, I liked the part that came after. When Cinderella ran away, and the prince cared enough to go after her. What always stuck with me was that he didn't just look in castles for a princess, he searched everywhere in his kingdom, even among the poorest of the peasants, until he finally found her again. And I realized that if a man was truly prince charming, he wouldn't care if the girl he loved came from a palace, or if she grew up sweeping the floors while everyone told her that she was no better than dirt. He'd only care that she was the girl he fell in love with, and he'd respect her no matter what was in her past.

In a lot of ways, looking over my magazines reminds me of the time back when I read that story over and over. Compared to life on Skid Row, the pictures of sweet little houses in nice neighborhoods look like something out of a fairytale. I still like to picture myself stepping into one of those pictures, just like I did with the pictures of castles and grand ballrooms. But as I've gotten older, it's started to feel less like a hope for the future, and more like wishful thinking about something that will never happen. Cinderella might have been poor like me, but I think what made her special was how pure she remained in spite of everything she went through. Since the time I grew up past childhood, I've done so many dirty, awful things just so I could afford a roof over my head and enough food to stay alive, and I don't know if I could ever feel purified again. Rags are one thing, but Cinderella never had to do the walk of shame in a low-cut dress and leopard print pumps.

I've never felt like I had much choice, though. I have so little to offer anyone, and if I can't at least manage to look as attractive as I can, no one seems willing to give me the time of day. Well, almost no one. For most of my life, compliments had always come along with things like whistles, wandering eyes, and commands to spin. I also got plenty of dirty looks from people who didn't approve of me, and who didn't realize that I was ashamed of myself enough already without them trying to drill it into me with the way they stared. It wasn't until I started working in a little flower shop that I realized there were other options besides 'disgust' and 'lewd hunger'. Or that any sort of remark could be given while looking into my eyes instead of anything lower.

I know that it's foolish to still believe in fairytale endings. It's hard to believe you can wish on a star for your dreams to come true when you can't even see the stars through the smog. But then there are times when he looks at me, and I can't help starting to imagine it again. I wonder how Cinderella's story would have played out differently if she'd fallen for someone else who grew up sweeping the floors and being treated like dirt. It might have added some extra challenges along the way, but I like to think it wouldn't have stopped them from getting a happy ever after. If the prince knew that his true love could come from anywhere, I don't know why the same thing couldn't apply in reverse. Not that I think… I mean, I could never imagine that he… I'm sure he doesn't…

Never mind. Forget I said anything.

You know, there's one thing that I've started to think is strange when I remember that old book. I looked at those pictures so many times, and in every one, no matter which story, the prince was always more or less the same. He was always tall, strapping, and rich beyond belief. Your typical 'knight in shining armor' sort of guy. I wonder when it was that everyone decided that was the ideal we were supposed to be looking for. Because while I didn't question it as a child, I eventually got old enough to actually have some experience with men. And the more dates I went on, the more I started to think the whole thing was off. In my experience, being tall and strapping just makes it scarier once they've gotten you cornered somewhere. And though I've certainly never dated anyone rich enough to afford a palace, I've caught the attention of a few professionals with a decent income, and it usually just means that they buy you a few nice things and then remind you that you owe them, at least until they finally get bored with you. Granted, I don't think it's fair to say that superficial things like that automatically make for a bad person. No matter what they look like or what kind of money they have, the princes in a fairytale would never do that sort of thing. But still, if those things aren't what's important, I can't help but wonder…

Why should the prince have to be tall anyway? Maybe that just makes it harder to look each other in the eye. And after plenty of experience with men much, _much_ stronger than me, I know that I'd trade strength for gentleness in a heartbeat if I could. And as for money… I'll admit that it would be nice to have, so we could leave this place behind and find somewhere pretty and green. But if I had to pick, I know that I'd be more than willing to give up dreams of a suburban home to be with someone I loved. I'd even be happy to live in… oh, say a basement, for example. With a prince charming that doesn't have to be tall, or strong, or rich. And maybe a shining suit of armor would just be cold and hard. I think it would be nicer if he had a soft sweater vest instead. And another thing, the princes in those pictures never had glasses, which I think is really a shame. I've found that they can be remarkably endearing. Especially when they're drawing your gaze in towards the kindest pair of eyes you've ever seen. And sometimes, you find yourself staring and smiling at the cute way his glasses slide down his nose while he's reading one of his botany books, and he has to keep pushing them back into place. And then he notices you looking and gives you a crooked, flustered smile, and though you force yourself to look away, you'd love nothing more than to stare into those eyes all day, because the way he looks at you is so sweet and tender, and…

Ahem. Not that I'm thinking of anyone in particular, of course.

And besides, it wouldn't matter anyway. Whether you're gazing at a palace silhouetted off against the horizon or a shop just across the street, the divide is just as hard to overcome. Cinderella might have been worth combing through a kingdom for, but who would ever want to come after me if I ran off? I deserve to be stuck in the Gutter, not standing on a balcony. My life is no fairytale.

But still, I find that I can't give up hope. It's hard to think that this might be the rest of my life, and I don't know what I would do if I couldn't at least imagine a happy ever after. That is what all the stories say to do anyway. They all say that if you don't give up, and you keep dreaming, those dreams might come true someday. And since I don't know what else to do, I keep imagining my life turning out better somehow. And if it was a story in that book of fairytales, I know exactly what the pictures would look like. A house somewhere that's green, and a prince charming with glasses and a sweater vest. Again, not that I'm thinking of…

Oh, who am I kidding? It's no fairytale at all until he's in it. Sometimes I really think fate has it in for me. It would be hard enough to go through life thinking that a man wonderful enough to be prince charming doesn't really exist. It's even harder to know that he does exist but he'll never see you that way. And it isn't even that he doesn't know who you are, he's your best friend, and you'd never regret that, but it's still hard to know that you can't be any more. So I do what I've always done, and I keep wishing. And since I can't see the stars, I look out to see if there's a light on in the shop, and it feels much more like a beacon of hope than a star ever could. Maybe someday, something really will happen, and things will be different. It's a lot to wish for, much more than I deserve, but you never know. A girl can dream. Sometimes, that's really all you can do.


End file.
